FIRST LIGHT
Hummingbirds & Eagles The whir of hummingbird wings, first here then fluttering over the pond, wall of pine, afternoon sun’s mirrored lazy flickering, and the place where, just last weekend,
we watched an eagle stand with certainty on the bank before dipping into a long pull
of water, before lifting over greenery and disappearing as eagles seem destined to do. Hummingbirds are cantankerous creatures at the feeder, taking time only to hover briefly,
tiny bodies flapping under their riveted heads, bickering for position, fencing with long beaks,
then thrusting them into the well. Sometimes we disappear—or so it seems—into the neuroses of hummingbirds. We want the nectar, that’s all, and when it’s gone, we apologize, love, and fall into making up. We drink deeply of it, approach even the nobility of eagles. Hummingbirds can
fly backwards, sideways, hover up and down; they wear their wedding clothes the rest of their lives.
© liveencounters.net POETRY & WRITING January 2022 Celebrating 12th Anniversary
